Pet Project
by OKami-hu
Summary: Megatron has long planned this, and now with a suitable Autobot prisoner, he can initiate the plan: turning the young Hot Rod into an obedient, loyal pet. Warnings for mechsmut, even some sticky.
1. Prologue 1

Hello there, kids. This is hopefully another interesting co-written piece, this time between me and an RL friend, kirak. Kujazlilmage was kind enough to beta this for me; luvz ya, girl. Then, rageai corrected the beta'd version. Also, it is important to mention that the whole story was inspired by Ladena's wonderful PWP series. Since Effing Fiction dot Net does not support links or about 80 percent of the non-alphanumeric characters a writer could need, you'll have to go to DA, get into ANYBODY's gallery, then in the address bar, change the user's name to Ladena. You'll find her.

This chapter is short, and the next is only a bit longer, but I wanted to go easy on my readers... I know not all of them like to read looooong texts.

* * *

"We kept him mostly intact, as you have requested, Lord Megatron." Shockwave's mostly emotionless but pleasant voice was a delight to hear—it always meant one was on Cybertron, the home planet, the crown jewel of the upcoming Decepticon Empire. The lieutenant was in charge of the local forces while Megatron battled with the Autobots on Earth.

They approached the cells; most of them empty, as they usually made quick work on the captives, but one of them contained a young mech. According to their information sources, he was one of Ultra Magnus' rebellious officers, Hot Rod. Shockwave punched the code into the keypad next to the reinforced door and it slid open, revealing a small cell and a lean frame chained to the wall.

Hot Rod was a beautiful piece of chassis. He had characteristic, ostentatious Autobot colors, deep crimson and burning yellow and orange. He was slender but strong; like a sleek cybercat or an exotic bird from an organic planet. His nucleotide-blue optics burned with defiance still, despite the numerous cracks and dents on his plating.

"Good." Megatron allowed himself to look at the prisoner for a long time, noting the beauty and strength. It was rare to capture one of the officers—and it was even rarer when the Autobots' rescue mission failed. He stepped inside the cell, slowly and deliberately making his way to Hot Rod. The chains lifted the Autobot's form, but Megatron was still taller, wider, and stronger. Yet, there was no mindless fear or respect in the blue optics. It irked Megatron and made him even more determined to change it.

"Your so-called friends have abandoned you," he said to Hot Rod. "Your commander has given up, and you live on only because of my mercy." The words wouldn't do much, but even the smallest cracks in the prisoner's core were enough for now.

Hot Rod turned his head a little. "I don't need your mercy." Of course, he knew Megatron was right. Ultra Magnus wouldn't risk breaking into the Decepticon Citadel. He was a good commander, but he was strict; each and every soldier knew his own worth, and it was considerably less than those casualties their rescue would cost. Naturally, the Autobots always tried to retrieve lost comrades, but everybody knew that Magnus would not risk more lives than necessary. Hot Rod was replaceable.

He knew that; and despite the tough facade, and the determined looks, he was afraid. The Cons had already beaten him; they wouldn't stop until his receptors shut off from the agony; and then, they'd leave him to bleed to death. Or worse, throw him into the smelting pit.

Lifting his hand, Megatron caught Hot Rod's chin. It was all too easy, with the other chained and incapable of fighting back. "You don't need my mercy?" he asked. "Then let's see how well you fare without it, shall we?" His voice was full of dark promises. "When you've had enough, and you change your mind, all you need to do is beg. Beg for the mercy you refused to have because of foolish pride...and you shall receive it." Moving his fingers, he caressed the Autobot's face before stepping back.

A shiver ran down the colorful body and blue optics widened for a moment; Hot Rod was young. He was assembled during the war—he knew little of intimacy, caresses or anything more.. Autobots, though not foreign to gentleness, kept such affairs in private. Megatron's fingers brushed against a few receptors which were never used before; it made the Autobot confused. But he was a hotheaded thing, firm in his belief that he'd be able to stand his ground until he was terminated.

"We'll see about that!" he snapped.

The defiant answer brought forth a pleased smile. Megatron had been counting on it; now all he had to do was sit back and enjoy the show. He retreated another step before turning on his heel and leaving the cell and its occupant alone. The door closed behind him with a bang, sealing the cell in darkness and jamming fields.

He turned to Shockwave. "Leave him alone for the next cycle. After that, let's give him some attention...but no permanent damage." It would take time to make Hot Rod beg, but they had eons to amuse themselves.

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, Lord Megatron."

oooOOOooo

Two months. Two Earth months—sixty-one solar rotations—that was all it took for the youngster to break. Either both Shockwave and his soldiers were exceptionally good, or the captive was weaker than Megatron first thought; but the next time the purple lieutenant called and made his report, he announced that Hot Rod had finally given up.

Megatron debated leaving him there for another day just to show he could; but he had promised to be merciful when begged to be. He finished listening to the other reports and made some decisions about the next action against Ultra Magnus before he made his way back to the cells and Hot Rod. He hadn't met the prisoner since that day two months ago, though sometimes he had linked his receptors to the surveillance systems and watched.

Opening the door, he stopped at the doorway. The paintjob was barely recognizable: there were open cracks and dents, some panels of the amour were broken, and a few cables sparkled in the open air, dried energon around their broken ends. The Autobot was still beautiful this broken.

"Well, well, well. I heard you wanted to tell me something."

Hot Rod was trembling. The pain, the internal abuse from the interrogations and the other horrors he'd been subjected to having taken a heavy toll on him. When he offlined his optics in a vain attempt to recharge, he still saw the Cons manhandling him; and in a few of those nightmarish visions, he even enjoyed it. Not every method the enemy used to break him was filled with liquid plasma and claws and teeth: the dried energon, somewhat dull and paler in color than the other fluids which stained his chassis, bore testament to that on the young officer's pelvis and thighs...as well as his faceplates.

He slowly raised his head, once-bright optics now dull and hazy. At first, no words came from the abused vocalizer; just a few sparkling clicks and whirrs. Then the formerly smooth voice, now laced with rough static, broke forth. "K-kill...me...p-p...please...!"

"No." Megatron stepped inside and walked to the prisoner. He reached out to caress the abused face, keeping his touch light and non-threatening.

"Tell me, do you want the pain to end? Do you want me to help you?" It was merely a formality to ask the questions when the answer was an obvious 'yes'. But Megatron wanted to do things exactly as he had planned, and that required the Autobot to ask and plead.

"Y-yes!" the choked answer came. "I th-thought I'd...be able to bear it...but I..." the blue optics went offline, "I c-can't...take it anymore!" He was drained, violated to the core. His processors were so scrambled, it hurt to think. Talking hurt, standing hurt, existing hurt, and Hot Rod had reached his limits. He just wanted this to end, one way or another.

The admission of hurt, of suffering, soothed something dark in Megatron's spark. He repeated the caress before he traced Hot Rod's face, careful of the broken bits.

"I regret that you had to go through this," he lied in a warm voice. "You won't be harmed any longer." He paused, waiting for the optics to flare up again. He allowed himself a dark smirk. "Just don't make me punish you."

The crimson head leaned into the touch. It was so warm, so gentle...so different after all the abuse. Who would have thought Megatron was capable of such gentleness...? "I-I...won't," the young mech whispered; he was ready to promise anything to make the abuse end.

"Good." Megatron caressed him one last time before pulling away. "I must leave now."

He had to be careful now. Too much, and Hot Rod would regain his sense of perspective and defiance; too little and he would be irreversibly broken, only good for dismantling for spare parts. What he wanted was neither, but something so much more. A loyal officer, someone who served him because there was no other possibility for him: someone to trust. Not that he didn't have trust in his Decepticons; but they were all prone to betrayal, to exploit real and imagined weaknesses.

There was a whine behind him; obviously, the youngling was scared he'd be left alone and simply terminated later.

Megatron stopped and turned to face his prisoner. "What is it?" he asked lightly, and went back, leaning in close enough to press his own mouth against Hot Rod's in a light touch. "Tell me what you want."

Mech systems occasionally demanded an overload; but being war's child, Hot Rod never even came close to one. The gentle touch, those shining silver-white lips brushing against his made his vents sputter and he instinctively pressed a tiny bit closer. "I...I just...please don't let them hurt me again!" His voice was barely audible. He wasn't properly fed either, and he could feel his systems powering down. "I don't...want to d-die! Please...please...!"

The begging made this the sweetest victory Megatron had achieved in a good while. "I won't let them hurt you," he promised, and with a final soft stroke, he left the cell.

He gave out the new orders regarding the captured mech after the door closed, isolating Hot Rod from everything once more. Tomorrow he would bring some energon, the leader of the Decepticons decided. The Autobot looked like he could use some, and he had promised to end the physical torture.

Of course, not everybody was pleased by the orders. Shockwave, though he might not have understood his Lord's logic, didn't ask questions—this made him a very valuable officer. On the other hand, Starscream glitched his spark out …until he was properly put in his place, as usual.


	2. Prologue 2

Aaaand, here's the second part of the prologue. I hope you guys like it.

* * *

Finally, the next day came. Megatron had all the codes to the Citadel's rooms; he could come and go as he pleased. After all, he was the Mighty Leader. The guards simply stood aside when he approached. It gave him a few uneasy thoughts about clever Autobots and disguises...they once masked Starscream to look like Optimus, and five Autobots successfully imitated even Menasor...and Menasor was five robots combined.

Still, he hoped there wouldn't be any glitches in his plans; it would be a shame to lose Hot Rod now, when he had been broken and Megatron could start to weld back the pieces again. He ordered another squad to guard the Citadel, doubling the defense.

He grabbed an energon cube and went to his prisoner, opening and closing the door behind himself. "Are you awake?" he asked lightly and went close. Unlike the last time, he kept his hands to himself for now.

"Uh-hmm..." Barely, but he was. Beaten, probably humiliated, deprived and denied from recharge due to the strained position, it was actually quite admirable that the youngling still hadn't fallen into emergency stasis. His optics flickered as they focused on Megatron's face, then the cube in his hand. The flickering grew into a steady glow and Hot Rod parted his lips, his glossa running along them. He could have killed for a mouthful of energon.

Megatron wanted to make the 'Bot beg. He wanted to humiliate him, make him crawl and lick up the energon from the floor; but he held back the impulses. He had to be careful, he reminded himself.

"Drink!" he said instead, and lifted the cube to Hot Rod's mouth, tilting it enough for the other. One swallow, two, three and he pulled back the half-empty cube. "Do you want more?"

A shimmering drop was running down on the white chin and as the cube was pulled away. Hot Rod craned his neck to reach it with a whimper. His systems buzzed up at the tiny surge of energy, and his fuel tank welcomed the boost.

"Yes, please...!" his intakes were gasping for air. "More—please."

"Good boy," said Megatron, voice pleased. His thumb brushed away the energon on Hot Rod's chin and Megatron licked the drop of energy off of it. There was a momentary pause before he lifted the cube again, and this time, he allowed the younger mech to empty it. "All right...?"

"B-better," Hot Rod's vents heaved a sigh. Now he could focus properly; thinking was easier. "Why are you doing this...?" He questioned. "Your interrogators turned my processors inside out; there's no more information to extract from me. Why not just chop me up for spare parts?"

Dropping the empty cube Megatron caressed Hot Rod's face, smudging some of the dirt there. "Would you rather I didn't do this? Didn't take care of you?" he asked lightly, the begging from yesterday still warming his spark.

Lifting his other hand, he let it rest on the broken chest plate. "You're interesting and pleasing to the optics. Is it that hard to believe I don't want to destroy you?"

Hot Rod jerked away from the touch, obviously panicked. "You...I've heard that from the others...! Then they started to use me for their filthy rituals...that's why you want to keep me alive?!" His cooling fans whirred to life. Memories of big strong Cons unsheathing something from their pelvic unit and sticking it into his mouth surfaced. The first time, he bit down—the Con howled from pain and the others peeled off the spoiler from his back very slowly. After that, they made sure to keep his mouth open.

"Filthy ritual...?" Megatron pressed closer, not allowing the captive mech to escape even those few inches. The pressure on the broken chest plate grew to a painful level as he shook his head, annoyed. "You Autobots don't know anything about us, do you? It isn't a ritual and it isn't filthy." There was a small pause before Megatron pulled back. "And no, I don't want to keep you only for that; not that you'd have any choice in your future."

Hot Rod winced at the closeness and eyed the Decepticon warily. "You think I'll become some toy, right? Now that I have no information, you just want to keep me alive because you think you can play with me!" The defiance was back in his optics. "If you want that, you better kill me now, because I won't become your personal plaything! I won't swallow your fluids or let you smear it on my armor!"

Megatron's voice held anger barely noticeable. "Did you miss the part where you were captured? Or when you begged me to stop the pain?" His fingers curled as they found a pre-torn cable bundle on Hot Rod's arm. The Decepticon twisted it in his hand. "We won't kill you, but you're insolent, and you lack respect; that I must punish."

The crimson mech cried out from the pain. His system sent out several warnings—that was a hydraulic fluid line, sensitive and essential for moving. Due to the damage, his arm was crippled anyway, but not unfeeling; far from it.

"I...I begged for _death,_ not more pain and humiliation!" He hissed between clenched dental plates. "I don't want to be your pet!"

"I'm offering you _pleasure,_ not pain," Megatron said and slowly, pulling back his hand after one last twist. Hot Rod screamed even more beautifully than Starscream, and Megatron wasn't yet ready to give up hearing this particular voice.

"You can accept it or you can protest until I'm angry and I give you to the others;" leaning close, the 'Con let his mouth brush against Hot Rod's before he finished the threat, "again."

Once more, the blue optics widened at the fleeting touch and the Autobot's vents sputtered. That gentle, lingering touch...it lit a few receptors on his metallic skin and they sung merrily, relishing in the feeling. On the other hand, the dark promise sent a chill down Hot Rod's backstruts.

He needed a little time. He didn't want to be subjected to the others again. But despite the energon boost, his mind was still a bit sluggish. He needed more time to come up with a plan.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he asked quietly.

The previous anger disappeared as no further protests came. "What are you accusing me of, exactly? I do a lot of things," Megatron said. Pain, pleasure, threats, intimidation—any of these could be questioned, even though they all had only one real reason: because he could. And Megatron really wanted the Autobot to break; to be tamed, to be trustworthy and obedient.

"Touching your lips to mine," the young mech replied, his faceplates heating up a bit. "It feels weird." He had never even seen Bots doing that. Truth to be told, there were a few parts of his body where he had no idea about how they worked. Once, he actually asked, and he was told to ignore them. '_It's wartime_,' Kup had told him, '_you don't need those parts in wartime. Save them for the times of peace._'

"It's the reward for good behavior," Megatron replied. He knew Autobots were simpler mechs than the Decepticons, but he was startling to realize they didn't even know kissing. To seek pleasure and avoid pain were shared traits among all of the 'Cons; even their bodies were built to reflect this.

Sensitive fingertips touched Hot Rod's lips in a belying, gentle way. "Doesn't it feel good?"

The youngling clicked once and parted his lips a tiny bit, analyzing the sensation. It was a curious one. The faint vibrations caused by the smooth fingertip traveled along his jaw, and his sensory grid tingled from it. His core temperature rose a bit and a couple of fans whirred to life to keep it down. His spark also noticed the gentle ministrations—it began to flutter.

"It's...nice." Maybe he should have pulled his head away, but he wasn't even sure what was happening.

"See? This is what I'm offering," Megatron said. Careful hands brushed up and down on the chained mech's body, seeking the sensitive spots and the sensors which he could overcharge. He listened to the sound of fans as he pressed here, caressed there before pulling back with a small kiss. "There is nothing here to resist, wouldn't you say?"

The blue optics widened once or twice in the process; when the Decepticon Lord brushed against the inner side of his strong thighs, Hot Rod jerked, and his intakes gasped. He was heating up; his spark sang merrily from the outside stimulation and he was sure it wasn't Megatron's doing. He just touched, ran his dark fingers over his prisoner's frame—the young mech's body reacted all on its own. It was frightening, but exciting as well. Hot Rod let out a small moan. Whatever this was...it felt good. And then, those lips were pressing against his lightly, and he mewled, optics blinking offline for a moment from the wonderful jolt of electricity running through him.

"I...I never thought you...a Decepticon...could be so...gentle."

Megatron couldn't help but to laugh at that. "That's because you're an Autobot. You aren't programmed to think," he said. Insults worked well when one wanted to undermine the other's self-confidence. The way Hot Rod's vocalizer worked without control made his spark pulse faster for a few moments. It made him more determined to pull forth even more noises later. "You exist to follow orders, don't you? Follow me, and I will reward you well."

The youngling hissed. "I don't follow anybody who thinks I'm a mindless drone! No matter how nice he is and whatever he can give me! I'm a warrior!" Not to mention the fact that he always had problems with following orders. He was too hotheaded and impulsive, causing regular processor-aches even to Magnus. But nobody ever accused him of not being a good warrior and a valuable member of the team. Hot Rod, if anything, was a proud creature.

"A warrior who was captured, broken and played with by his enemies," Megatron pointed out with an amused expression. A large hand settled against one of Hot Rod's inner thighs as a threat and a promise in one. After all, the Decepticon Lord could punch through the armor there without much trouble; but he could caress the same place just as easily, too. "Tell me, who would you follow? Would you follow someone who can protect you?"

"Someone, who—" Suddenly, the bold cry died as if cut by a blade. For the first time in his existence, it suddenly occurred to Hot Rod that he didn't even know exactly why they were fighting. Sure, he had been told that the Decepticons were evil; that they wanted to rule the universe, and had killed many, but that was it. He had been assembled, body carried to Vector Sigma, which granted him a spark, and then he was thrown into war as soon as they made sure his aim was good enough.

"I'll follow...a leader, who wants the best of Cybertron," he finally blurted out. "That there will be no more wars, no more deprivation. I'll follow somebody who fights for freedom. My life doesn't matter; I'm a soldier, and if I have to die for a better future, then so be it."

A caress on the thigh showed the Decepticon approved this answer. "I do want to end the war. I want Cybertron to prosper, to grow, to be the greatest!" And it wasn't even a lie, Megatron thought, for the Golden Age before the war was one of stagnation and slow decay. Shaking his head, he continued to rant as if he was speaking to his loyal transformers. "And what do the Autobots want? They want to stop me. Because they dislike my person...they pressed me into this war, and were surprised when I fought back!"

Hot Rod shivered from the touches. His vents were growling louder as his spark arched up, tapping at the plating shielding it, as if it wanted to reach out and meet with something close. "B-but you killed so many Autobots...! You w-wanted to rule the planet and destroy others...! Now we burrow under the ground...we're cold and hungry and we're shot on sight by Shockwave's soldiers!"

"And you say you don't shoot back? You wouldn't shoot first if a Decepticon showed up?" Fingers curled, pressing painfully against the sensitive parts. Pain, pleasure, punishment, reward: it was all so simple, and Megatron had enough time to train this one. He eased up but didn't pull away his hand. "I want to lead Cybertron into a better future. I want Cybertron to be respected and recognized all over the galaxy, and if I have to make sacrifices, I will."

"But it's too much!" the younger mech whined. Something in his chest—two identical sealed ports beneath a panel, he had looked at them before—were itching and burning, but the feeling wasn't exactly bad. "Why don't you...try to talk? You big mechs always talk...diplomacy and such. Why do so many mechs have to die?"

"Because they won't let me lead Cybertron, and I won't allow them to destroy what remains of our home." Carefully chosen words accompanied a gentle caress. "Why are you still fighting me?"

Hot Rod's optic ridges creased in the middle. "Because...fighting you is all I've known in my life."

"That was before," Megatron said. He stepped back. "Your capture served our interest. Now you've a choice. Stop fighting me!" A lot depended on Hot Rod's answer. Either way, Megatron would have his fun. If refused once more, he would call back Shockwave and allow the other mechs here some more time with the young mech. Or, as soon as he had the Autobot obedient, Megatron would pursue his goal to coax forth those interesting noises once more.

Something stirred in the young warrior's mind. What if...what if he stayed, and learned a few things about the Decepticons? And maybe, after they trusted him...what if he escaped? After all, if they sent him out to shoot Autobots, he'd just turn and take them down; no Autobot would hurt him! Magnus would be amazed, just like that loudmouth Springer. The idea rooted quickly and firmly into Hot Rod's processor, and once an idea did that, it was a hard task to remove.

"Fine...show me your ways; convince me that they're better. If you do, I'll follow you then."

It was somewhat surprising to hear the acceptance. Hesitation wasn't the trait of a leader, however, so Megatron stepped forward and kissed Hot Rod, pressing his whole body into the contact. "You chose well," he said. There was a small pause before Megatron brushed his fingers against the sensitive parts once more; pleasure to reinforce his approval. He would release the mech later and keep an eye on him; it wasn't as though he could really trust a traitor or an Autobot. Not yet, at least.


	3. Chapter 1

Here you go, kids! Finally some update. Enjoy yourselves.

Thanks to spectrumpheonix for the beta.

* * *

Megatron released the chains holding his captive Autobot. His fingers curled around Hot Rod's shoulder to hold him up incase his processor couldn't react fast enough to the change in balance. "I expect good behavior from you," he said, and stepped back once he was sure the other wouldn't fall down. "I think you'll need some repair and oiling, and maybe even a new paint job."

"And some warm distillosol," the youngling grumbled, eyeing the stains on his armor. Life-energon, coolant and… other fluids had dried on him, and his left arm hung limp next to his body.

"Just take me to the wash racks, I'll clean, and then your medics can patch me up. You know very well how weak I am right now; I won't flee." He hated to admit it, but it was true, and Hot Rod thought honest talk might get him into the other's good graces sooner.

"Good. But I want you to stay even after you are a hundred per cent fit," Megatron said, appreciating the honesty. He opened the door of the cell and stepped out first. His back was to his captive, and while Hot Rod was weak and didn't have the weaponry to cause serious damage, it was still a show of trust. "You'd best accompany me or else the others might mistake you as a target." Of course, he could inform the Decepticons via comlink to not shot the Autobot down but accidents happen, and he didn't want this project to be a failure even before it had began. "Do you need spare parts as well?"

"Could use a new spoiler," Hot Rod nodded, glancing back over his shoulder. "Though I don't think I'll be using my transformation ability anytime soon. Everything in me is aching."

Megatron couldn't quite help the snort escaping him. The Autobot was lucky he was just aching and not close to deactivation! "We'll see if there are any." He didn't add that the spare parts usually came from the sparkless bodies of others. Resources were rare and never enough, despite all of his efforts.

He led Hot Rod to an elevator, then through a few corridors before they arrived at the medics' preferred hall. "Here. Be nice to them, they can have a worse temper than I."

Despite his best efforts, the youngling couldn't help but cringe - that sounded downright nasty. He nodded to the mech present in the room, who measured him with a definite interest - about the same way a scavenger measures up a new scrapheap. But, Megatron's orders quickly lowered their enthusiasm - the Autobot had to be repaired, brought back to full efficiency. One younger-looking mech accompanied Hot Rod to help him wash while the others scattered to fetch tools and parts.

Soon, the crimson and orange officer was resting on a medical berth in stasis.

Megatron left Hot Rod under the medics' watch and went back to his main operation room. He needed to prepare the Decepticons on Earth for their new Autobot pet. But first he commed to Shockwave, warning him about Hot Rod and his plans to go back to Earth again. His Cybertronian second-in-command took the news calmly and refrained from pointing out the energy they will need for the travel. But this war didn't allow Megatron to spend too much time away from it; Optimus Prime wasn't above confusing the Decepticons with his own ideology, nor was he above pressing his advantages when Megatron wasn't at present. And he wanted to keep his new pet with him, at least for now.

Talking with his chief medic on Earth assured him that the preparations should be complete before they arrived - there was nothing else to do right now, just wait until Hot Rod was repaired to an acceptable level.

The youngling, technically a prisoner still, had no say in the matter; he wasn't awake anyway. The medics prepared him for travel. Megatron couldn't help a satisfied grin when he saw him again, strapped down and unconscious. The medics did good work on him; he looked a lot better. A little more fixing, some energon and the tender care of the three specialists on Earth, and the fiery young officer would make a wonderful decoration to Megatron's own chambers.

Shockwave opened the Spacebridge and wished good luck and victory for his mighty leader. The teleport device hummed up loudly and in a few kliks they arrived at their second home- the citadel in the middle of the ocean. As the Spacebridge closed, they could feel the mechanisms working, sinking the impressive tower again into the depths which the Autobots had little chance of invading.

ooo

As no immediate report or attack demanded his attention, Megatron was free to look over his pet. He summoned Bombshell and Soundwave to him, while his medic worked on the Autobot. He had already made his wishes clear, so that all that was left was the installation and the security issues. "Are you sure he won't notice the overrides?"

"Chances depend on persuasion efficiency," Soundwave replied in his monotone voice, "Time and care required."

"We'll use the combination of Soundwave's coding abilities and my cerebro-shells," Bombshell explained, "Hook will install the needed components. The key is to create a smooth transition from one personality to another. The overrides won't activate at once, but continuously, one line at a time. To reach the desired result, we'll need time, and your assistance as well, Megatron."

"My assistance in what?" Megatron asked back. He knew the theory of brain washing methods but wasn't an expert like the Insecticon. "To reinforce the preferred and punish the not preferred behavior?"

"That is actually a wonderful way to put it," the Insecticon grinned - it was apparent, even thought his facial structure was not capable of displaying emotions. "You have to tempt him, taint him. Deceive him, make him doubt in anything and everything he believed so far - when he's occupied with his own thoughts, he's less likely to spot the changes. Do what you do best: be a charismatic leader! Try talking him into changing alliance - if everything goes as planned, eventually, he will. By his own decision nonetheless."

"As long as I've the time to play with him," Megatron nodded back, his own expression resembling a shark's. If the process worked, and Hot Rod became loyal to him without doubts and fears, then maybe, one-by-one, he could change all the remaining Autobots. "Send me a notice when he is ready."

Bombshell nodded; Soundwave bowed, and they both returned to the task at hand.

"Another brilliant plan, oh Mighty Leader...?" An irritating voice sounded from behind; its owner was obviously very displeased.

"Starscream, I almost missed you," Megatron said and turned around to watch his second-in-command. The Seeker was a true Decepticon, ready to attack at the first hint of weakness. Megatron used him because Starscream had good tactical skills and helped more than not, but he didn't trust him. Still, there weren't many things he didn't share; after all, Megatron was sure in his own strength, so he just pointed in the direction of the medics. "See, our new pet!"

"Do you seriously think this will work?" Starscream spat, "Bombshell failed more times with his gadgets than not, and Hook will be tinkering with that Autobot for all of the upcoming week!" Granted, Hook's time-consuming precision was indeed legendary. "You're wasting time and effort on that brat, not to mention energon and spare parts, and when he first sees Optimus Prime, he'll shoot you and throw himself into his comrades' arms! Though, at least that would mean that I'm the next leader." He made a nonchalant gesture. "I'm not even sure why I'm trying to stop you from making this stupid mistake...!"

"You think I'll let Hot Rod out of the Citadel? And besides, he has never met Prime before, he shouldn't be affected by the Earthian Autobots!" Megatron had considered the dangers and possible damages as well when he decided to indulge himself in this project, and the chances were he wouldn't be wasting anything. "And Hook, Bombshell and Soundwave working together should do the trick - and if not, it's still only one 'bot and an easily destroyable one. You might be able to use his new spoiler if it comes to that," he added and reached out. His fingers and claws rested on Starscream's vulnerable wings for a few kliks. "But not sooner!"

The Seeker was composed enough to freeze when the claws grabbed his wings instead of tearing himself out of the grasp.

"It'll be too late to admit I was right when your little pet nails you to the berth with something sharp!" he hissed and stepped back, out of reach. "I suppose you want a whole harem of converted Autobots? Your spike will be your death."

"What is this, Starscream? You want one for yourself?" Megatron asked then stepped closer. He lowered his voice and tried to trap Starscream against a wall with his greater height and reach. "Or does your processor need an update for you to remember that I can have whatever I want?"

The Air Commander was a treacherous glitch, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He tried to maneuver out of the threatening situation both physically and verbally. "Of course you can, Mighty Megatron. After all, your plans allllways succeed," he drawled. "I'm merely trying to point out that the project needs a lot of time and effort and great care and if you slip once... you could ruin the whole process, and then... You'll have an Autobot in the spark of the citadel, bent on destroying you."

"Yes, that could set back my plans for a while," Megatron mused but didn't give up on his attempt. He backed Starscream against a wall, far from the door as the brightness of his optics increased. "However, as long as nobody interferes, things should go according to my plans." He paused and made a grab for the Seeker, wanting to push him against the solid metal.

The Seeker managed to block the attack with his lower arm; not that the powerful claws couldn't rip it off, but at least it wasn't his cockpit glass, neck cables or wings. "I wouldn't dream of it, oh wise leader...! Who am I to mess with your experiments? I'm just here to deliver the warning of a worried subordinate...!" His crimson optics wide and flickering rapidly.

Megatron grabbed the arm and didn't release it. His other hand seized Starscream's jaw; the panels on the face weren't too strong and many receptors were linked tothem. "Are you sure? Maybe, I should ask you to make sure nothing happens to the Autobot while in the Citadel, nothing that would compromise my plans. Would you like that?" His voice held one part cruelty and one part amusement.

"W-whatever my leader asks from me..." the Seeker managed to groan out; his own claws scratching at Megatron's hand locked on his jaw weakly. "I shall obey your commands... Mighty Megatron."

"Good," Megatron nodded. Starscream's words filled him with pleasure and he didn't even have to be violent to get the other's submission. His expression shifted a bit as he thought about all his plans and how he wanted to ensure the Autobot's obedience. Without releasing the trapped Seeker, Megatron pressed his lips against the other's. Maybe this would create a positive loop.

Immediately, a whine built in the Air Commander's vocalizer, and his struggling ceased a bit, most probably because his processors became otherwise occupied.

Megatron went on for a while, enjoying the feeling before he pulled back. He wasn't about to just shove his spike into Starscream in the middle of the Citadel. "Now, do you have any more objections?" he asked and released the trapped hand so his fingers could wander. The claws didn't leave marks as he caressed the Seeker's chest and wings but the possibility was there.

"N-no. Of course not." Starscream didn't turn his head, but averted his optics. His vents were heaving as well, betraying the effect the kiss had on him. "Command me and I shall obey, my Leader."

"I want you to keep the perimeter clean of our enemies, at least for a short time, until my pet starts to adjust," Megatron said. His fingers caressed the other's body where the armor was weak and the joints were vulnerable, sensitive. "I want you to be civil to the Autobot. He needs careful handling and should any of you destroy my plans I won't be pleased! Questions?"

The Seeker shivered. "None, my Leader. I shall lead the aerial patrols myself for a few Earth weeks." For his greatest dismay, Starscream was not able to keep his frame completely in check; it arched into the caresses eagerly. Curse those razor-sharp, strong claws. Curse those blazing crimson optics. Curse those wicked processors beneath that silver-white helm...

"Excellent," Megatron nodded and pressed his lips against Starscream's once more as a reminder. Then he pulled back and straightened out. He was affected as well but not as much as the other. After all, the Seeker kept his hands idle. "Now, you've your orders, and I need to see how we fared while I was away." It was a cold dismissal but not more so than usually.

Starscream merely nodded, then shook himself and headed back toward his chambers. Meanwhile, he commed to his wingmates and haughtily ordered them there. He had to get rid of the frustration.

Megatron looked after him for a few kliks then turned the other way and went down to ask Hook how much time did he need for all the modifications. He wanted his little pet to be perfect.

ooo

Due to the mechano-medic's painful precision, several days passed until Hot Rod was roused from the status. However, the Constructicon team used the time to work on his other parts; his bright armor was mended, arm fixed, he even got a brand new, polished spoiler. His frame was pristine, smelling faintly of fresh oil and paint.

His blue optics flashed to life slowly, stasis-haze still clouding them. He focused and frowned a little as he identified Megatron leaning above him. Fortunately, Hook made sure that his logic processors would catch up sooner than his motor functions did.

"Welcome to Earth," Megatron said pleasantly. He reached out with one hand and caressed Hot Rod's face, metal brushing against sensitive metal. "How do you feel?"

"Earth-?" The youngling shook his head a bit disoriented. "How long have I-" His optics widened as he checked his chronometer. "Why was I offline for so long? And how did I get to Earth anyway?" Earth. The distant planet, where Optimus Prime and his soldiers fought still! Of course, these were only rumors, but they boosted the Cybertron resistance's moral quite a bit. Optimus was the great Autobot hero, the legendary leader, and when he was in a good mood, Ultra Magnus sometimes relayed tales of him for the youngsters, to set an example for them.

"You're just full of questions." Megatron frowned for a moment then straightened himself. His cold optics were fixed on Hot Rod. "You're here because I brought you here. I couldn't leave without you, not after you asked me to show you the way Cybertronians are supposed to be! But your injuries were graver than I had first thought and the bridge is calibrated to us, that's why you were offline. But fear not, nothing has happened during this time. Fortunately we weren't attacked," he added in a quieter voice. The Autobots were trying to repair themselves right now, thanks to the Air Squad and 'Scream. "I hope our fortune keeps for a while longer."

"Hnn." Hot Rod slowly struggled to sit up straight, and eyed Hook warily, who was running diagnostic scans on him. Eventually, the green and purple mechano-medic nodded.

"He's on ninety percent efficiency, Megatron. The rest will come along with a cube and a little exercise; the freshly repaired parts are always a bit sore first."

"Thank you," Megatron said and the satisfaction in his voice wasn't forged. Hook did a good job even if it took more time than he had wanted. He turned back to Hot Rod and touched him where the new spoiler joined to his body. "How does it feel?"

A faint shiver ran down on the crimson body. "Sensitive..." Hot Rod mumbled, feeling his cheek plates heating up a bit. "Uh, so, what now? Will somebody escort me to a nice cell?" The touch reminded him of the curiosity that had welled up in his spark before- what was this sensitivity all about? He remembered where and how the Decepticon leader touched him, and he wanted to figure out if it was real or just some kind of trick.

"No, if you promise me that you'll behave," Megatron replied. He kept lightly touching the sensitive spot as he spoke. "I'd like to give you some authorization, limited, of course, but I don't want to keep you as a prisoner. It would be cruel."

The youngling opened his mouth, then closed it. He wanted to mention that he had been a prisoner, treated roughly, but... back then he was a captive, who had been shooting at the enemy. Now, he was here to learn. He nodded, not really wanting to move out of the gentle caress. "I see. Thank you, Megatron. Then, perhaps... somebody could show me around? Only the places where I'm free to move, of course. Like, wash racks, shooting range... Where I can get a cube."

"You're welcome," Megatron nodded. He wasn't used to being this polite with weaker beings but he needed all his cunning for his plan to work. He continued the caress for another minute or two before he took a step back and offered his hand to Hot Rod. "I can show you around, and maybe introduce you to a few of my faithful Decepticons. Come!"

This sounded interesting. The young officer followed Megatron. At the moment, he was the only Decepticon he - no matter how insane this sounded - trusted. The leader proved to be trustworthy until this, and in fact, sort of nice... It really threw Hot Rod off the line. He had heard stories of Megatron's cruelty, but they didn't want to match up with what he had seen.

The youngling shook his head. Wait, no, he was not here to fawn over a Con. He was here to gather information and to either flee back to his own, or to try to arrange something between the two factions. Becoming the one who managed to make the leaders talk and try to settle things diplomatically... Now, that sounded very nice. Hot Rod felt eager to see things here on Earth, and he could very well start with the Decepticon citadel.


End file.
